


Call & Response

by Moiself



Category: 30歳まで童貞だと魔法使いになれるらしい | Cherry Magic! Thirty Years of Virginity Can Make You a Wizard?! (TV)
Genre: Dialogue Light, Happy Ending, Like this is about as angsty as I get, M/M, Pining, mildly angsty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:21:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29840763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moiself/pseuds/Moiself
Summary: Kurosawa spends another evening at home...alone.
Relationships: Adachi Kiyoshi/Kurosawa Yuichi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 56





	Call & Response

_"Tadaima."_

Kurosawa called softly to the emptiness of his apartment, the sound of his voice melting into the silent gloom. Breathing out a small sigh, he turned to lock the door before heading deeper into his home, flopping onto the sofa in a graceful heap.

He was back comparatively early thanks to a lighter than usual workload today, but Kurosawa was unsure if that was something to be thankful for or not. Keeping busy was a wonderful distraction, but the amount of time that he had spent over the past few days with Rokkaku helping him prepare for his first solo sales pitch was a little draining to say the least.

His _kouhai_ was so young, and so full of eagerness to please and eagerness to succeed. Kurosawa could remember when that was him, finally free from the constraints of his recruit suit and the mundane tasks of a new starter, ready to make his mark on the company and become the best salesman Toyokawa had ever seen. 

He could remember it like it was yesterday.

Unfortunately it was not yesterday.

It was years since he had been in Rokkaku’s shoes. Years since that goal of workplace success had been joined by another, one even more treasured. Years since he had opened his eyes in a starlit park and been mesmerised by the concerned face of his quiet, reserved colleague Adachi. 

At first Kurosawa’s goal had been to befriend Adachi, to get to know the person who had somehow seen through the cloud of apparent perfection which blinded so many to the real man underneath. Admiration soon turned to fondness, and fondness to an all-consuming crush on the timid soul a million unreachable miles away, just across the office floor. 

He was being melodramatic, he knew it, but the unwelcome reminder that Adachi’s recent birthday had brought still stung a little. The object of his distant affection had turned thirty, driving home the fact that Kurosawa had been hopelessly, unrequitedly smitten with him for seven years, as unsuccessful in achieving that goal as he had been successful at achieving the other. Somehow it felt like even more of an admonition than his own thirtieth had been.

After all, a healthy bank balance was a little less fun with no one to spend it on, and a stylish apartment felt a little less like _home_ without someone to come home to.

In all honesty Kurosawa hadn’t thought that he would still be coming home to an empty apartment after all these years. When he’d first moved in it had been with a youthful hope that just maybe he’d soon be sharing his life and his space with Adachi...preparing meals together, waking next to each other, just sitting enjoying their own company with a slushy movie, but here he was, still on his own. 

It wasn’t _entirely_ a choice, he had attempted to meet other people, and he wasn’t exactly short of offers, but no matter how pretty, or handsome, or charming the other person was they simply weren’t _him_ and no one ever progressed much further than a single coffee date or drink. Feeling guilty for wasting their time, eventually Kurosawa had stopped trying, politely and pleasantly feigning obliviousness when an interested party tried to shoot their shot. 

The grumbling of his stomach interrupted Kurosawa’s reflections, reminding him that it was time to focus on more mundane matters and prepare some dinner. 

Cooking was no great chore, quite the opposite. Kurosawa found it to be both enjoyable and rather relaxing, affording him a chance to unwind from his day and sort through his thoughts. Thoughts which inevitably drifted to Adachi...reflecting on what he had worn, dreaming of what it would be like to reach out and fix that perpetual bedhead, wondering if he would enjoy the meal being prepared. 

_“Itadakimasu.”_

Kurosawa dragged his attention back to the meal in front of him, simple by his own self set standards...salmon, pumpkin and rice. Perhaps too simple to keep his focus, as soon his mind began to wander in that familiar direction once more. 

As he ate, he indulged in his favourite daydreams of Adachi, at ease in this space, comfortable in Kurosawa’s company, lives happily entangled. 

But it was only a fantasy. Reality crept back in as he packed up the leftovers for tomorrow’s _bento_ and washed and dried his solitary set of dishes. 

Enough. 

His night was never going to get any better if he sat moping. Perhaps a miracle would occur and he would get the chance to sweep Adachi off his feet... or he wouldn’t. There was nothing he could do about it tonight. 

As he put the last dish back in its cabinet, Kurosawa caught sight of the volumes on his bookshelf, a plan springing to life in his mind. If he made a quick run to the convenience store now, he could spend a few hours indulging in some _Ragna Crimson_ , chips and maybe even a beer. 

Grabbing his jacket he headed for the door. 

_“Ittekimasu.”_


End file.
